


Un Verano en Quintero

by anerdandanofficer



Category: Perdona nuestros pecados (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 10:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14353407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anerdandanofficer/pseuds/anerdandanofficer
Summary: When Barbara and Nicanor come back from Chillan in the beginning of January, Nicanor has more work than ever to catch up on, and with so much to prove he is working around the clock, and hardly ever home. When Barbara’s uncle offers her his summer house in Quintero to use, Nicanor begrudging allows her to go with Mercedes as he cannot take the time off and she desperately wants to go.A snapshot of Mercedes and Barbara's summer vacation in Quintero.





	Un Verano en Quintero

**Author's Note:**

> I finally caved and wrote Barcedes fanfiction. 
> 
> I wanted to explore that period in their relationship just before the new season begins, and the midset they are both in leading up to this. The idea is that this small vacation gives them an insight into what could be, a life together.
> 
> I have thrown a tiny bit of (poorly written) Spanish dialogue in, but most has a translation, it just felt weird to write a whole fic in english for these two. 
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts.

-Barbara- the sound of her name rolling off of Mercedes tongue, as the other woman ran towards her and enveloped her in a hug so tight she almost couldn’t breath, made her stomach twist. She had missed Mercedes so much more than she could have thought it was possible to miss someone. The time in Chillan, and on New Years no less, had felt like a painful eternity. She had phoned Mercedes when she could; whispered conversations always cut short too soon. -Hermosa mia- crackling down the line was not enough, Mercede’s sad murmur -Barbarita- sounded so much better when Mercede’s spoke this into the crook of her neck, holding her tightly, lips caressing her skin as they moved to form the word, than faintly through the cold receiver. 

 

They stood in the foyer of the Moller house for what could have been two minutes, or two hours, holding onto each other, relearning the others feel, their scent. Walking back through the front door of her and Nicanor’s house today had not felt like coming home, but  _ this _ did. 

 

-I could stay in your arms forever- Mercedes mumbled, words muffled by Barbara’s hair, and cutched tighter at the material of her summer dress until a noise upstairs startled them both enough to pull apart just as quickly as they had embraced. Mercedes gave her a small, sad smile as they stood on opposite sides of the empty foyer, what felt like a gaping metre of space now between them. Finally Barbara could survey her, eyes raking up her form from her feet shifting on the cold tiles, up the brightly coloured fabric of her dress, to her new haircut. Mercedes tilted her head to one side, and the sharp cut of her neat bob moved with her. She made Barbara’s heart flutter nervously as she stared back, olive green eyes tender as they traced her features. 

 

-The maid is here. Do you want to go up to my room? I want to show you the novel I just finished reading, I think you will love it- Mercedes led the way, soft folds of her new orange dress fluttering around her legs as she walked. Barbara followed behind, taking in the sight of her love as she bounded up the staircase. When Mercedes glanced back at her over her shoulder, the summer afternoon light in it’s rich golden tones caught in the olive green of her eyes.

 

-I missed you- Mercedes said, reaching her hand towards Barbara’s and taking it softly in her own, before continuing up the last two steps. Barbara swallowed, let herself be led (how different from the beginning of their relationship).

 

-I missed you too- she confessed as she followed behind, squeezing Mercede’s warm palm in hers before disentangling their fingers, just in case. The air against her hand once she let go felt cool despite the warmth of the day still lingering in the house, and it ached to hold Mercedes’ again. 

 

~~

 

-Have I mentioned how becoming your new hair is, Mercedes?- Barbara asks, resting her chin in the palm of her hand as she watches Mercede’s enter the living room where the maid had her wait. She _ has _ mentioned this before, several times since returning two days ago, but Mercedes still beams as though it is the first time. 

 

-You look lovely as well- Mercedes tells her as she sits beside her on the lounge, just close enough that their knees bump each other.

 

-Chillan must have done you well, you have come back more beautiful than ever- she leans back, stretching out her back elegantly as she extends the space between them, her tone sincere in its compliment though carrying an undercurrent of insecurity as she purses her lips. Barbara can only laugh and shake her head, running her thumb over the back of Mercedes hand where it rests on the lounge between them. 

 

-I was miserable without you- she admits. She wants to say let us swear to never be apart so long again, but what pains her is that she cannot make such a promise. The reality of their situation is something that has been wearing on her in Chillan, but she tries not to let herself think about it now that they are together again. 

 

-I wish I could have kissed you at midnight- Mercedes tells her, leaning in again now, as though closing the space between them affords some privacy in the open room. Their shoulders brush, and Barbara has to lick her lips to keep herself at bay. She had imagined that they had, standing in her friends’ living room in Chillan at the stroke of midnight, carefully having position herself away from Nicanor. She had imaged that adrenalin racing through her veins as the countdown began, her nervous stomach turning with the excitement of the night, the hype and superstition of the day making the room feel as though it was buzzing, and Mercedes in a beautiful frock, those soft eyes fluttering closed as she pushed up to kiss Barbara, nervously connecting a beat too early, their lips already locked when midnight struck but two obliviously entranced in each other to notice until they feel confetti landing in their hair. 

 

-Come away with me- Barbara whispers, without thinking. Her Uncle’s invitation is playing on her mind, from her last night in Chillan, to use his summer house if she should wish. She knows that Nicanor couldn’t take the time off, not at the moment, not after their trip. His caseload is higher than ever, he has barely been home since they returned much to her delight, leaving her to spend all her time in Mercedes company. Which gives them the perfect excuse. 

 

-What?- Mercedes looks perplexed as she brushes an errant strand of hair away from Barbara’s eyes.

 

-My uncle’s house in Quintero, he said that I could borrow it if I wanted. Let’s go away, just the two of us. A summer vacation.-

 

~~

 

-Ay, Mercedes. Yo recuerdo cuando era ni ñ a, pasando tiempo aquí en el verano (I remember when I was a child, spending the summer here)- Barbara sighs softly as they look up at the small cottage. The yellow and blue paint is worn from the weather, the wind and the sun and the saltwater aging the house beyond its years, but it has a rustic charm where it sits uphill from the beach, vines climbing up it’s bannisters, dappled sunlight playing through the overgrown garden to land on the cobbled path leading to the front door. It has a certain beauty born of nostalgia and memories, but it is no grand house like the Mollers’ back in Villa Ruiseñor. 

 

She glances across at Mercedes, to gauge her reaction, and finds the other woman watching her fondly. It’s that look that always makes her stomach drop, Mercedes has the softest and yet most intense gaze, reserved only for her, that makes Barbara feel exposed and yet adored at the same time. She remembers when Mercedes used to become quite shy and bashful when caught staring at her this way, crimson staining her cheeks as she ducked her head, but now as Barbara’s eyes meet hers she continues to stare back calmly, lips creasing up into a smile. Barbara feels Mercede’s hand catch hers, where it hangs by her side, soft fingers tentatively intertwining with her own in the summer heat. 

 

-Finalmente, estamos solas, lejos de todos. Siento raro poder tocarte sin miedo, (Finally, we are alone, away from everyone. I feel weird being able to touch you without having to worry,)- Mercedes leans back against the hot bonnet of the car, sunglasses pushed back on her head to hold her gentle curls at bay as she squints into the sunlight. She seems calmer than usual, temporarily at peace. For a moment Barbara lets herself imagine that this is their life now, just the two of them living out their days without worry. Setting up their own house together. Cooking together. Falling asleep together. All those small domestic things that make up a life. 

 

She lets this fantasy dwell for a moment, and tells herself that for this week she can believe it, can live it. You can’t think about the end of a vacation before it has begun, so she squeeze’s Mercedes hand and soaks up the afternoon sunlight on her skin. 

 

Inside the house is somewhat different to how she remembers it. Tio Martin has done some redecorating since she was thirteen, unsurprisingly, but it still has the same feel that it always did. Like summer, like vacation. They pause on the first landing, Barbara placing their bags down for a moment, and pushing open the first door on the right. It is now a small study, musty with the scent of paper and dust and sun-soaked wood. 

 

-This is where I used to sleep when we came- she tells Mercedes, who listens and looks with interest, sticks her head into the musty room, and runs her hands over the faded wallpaper. Her eyes twinkle as her fingers find the small B carved into the wall just above where the spare bed used to be. 

 

-Always rebellious- she teases, but she sounds proud as she says this, and Barbara laughs. She had gotten in so much trouble from her father for that, but when her uncle was later told he had only given a good hearted chuckle and said that beach houses were made for making memories. 

 

Once the clothes are unpacked, Barbara insists that she will make the dinner, or attempt to at least. They haven’t brought too much with them, tomorrow they will need to journey to the local store. She leaves Mercedes in the living room with a new book, and goes into the kitchen, muddling about in the unfamiliar cupboards as she puts something together for them. She has placed it in the oven when she hears the creak of an old record player, and smiles to herself as she gets the plates out, the same crockery they used to eat off of when she visited with her parents. A house so steeped in memories takes on a new life, and different feel, to be here with Mercedes. 

 

Soft music begins to play from the living room, a sweeping romantic melody that makes her stop as she stands in front of the sink, looking out through the small window into the already darkening view over the sea. The song is so familiar. She raises a hand to her lips, touches her fingers there as she remembers that day, heat rising in her cheeks and curling in her stomach. The memory still stirs in her that same nervous warmth, as she remembers every touch, every look, the feel of Mercedes’ breath against her skin, the sound of her moans vibrating through their kiss. She had never know, before that, what sex was supposed to be like. 

 

Footsteps in the doorway cause her to turn, and Mercedes is leaning against the door frame looking somewhat chuffed with herself. This pride melts into a tender gaze trailing over Barbara’s lips, before she swallows and meets her eyes again. 

 

-Mercedes Moller, estas tan romantica- Barbara coos, leaning forward and wrapping her fingers around Mercede’s wrist in order to gently pull her towards her. She can feel Mercedes pulse racing beneath her index finger, and for a moment the other woman blushes somewhat bashfully at the teasing compliment, before pressing closer to kiss her. Unlike the rushed and fevered kisses at home, this is soft, and slow, the warmth of Mercedes’ lips moving against her own with a languid laziness before she pulls away, and presses her forehead against Barbara’s.

 

-Thank you- she whispers, staying close, leaning into Barbara’s frame. Barbara’s hips press into the benchtop behind her, and she wraps Mercedes in her arms.

 

-For what?-

 

-For this. All of it. Everything.- Mercedes pulls back so that she can brush the tips of their noses, -I love this, us.-

 

-I love you- Barbara replies, pressing another kiss against Mercedes’ mouth, more urgent this time, the heat of the memory still has her pulse racing. Mercedes kisses back, tangles her fingers in Barbara’s loose curls. They pull apart for a moment, breathing fast, and Barbara pulls away, only to turn the oven off. She wasn’t all that hungry, not for meatloaf anyway. Her hands find Mercedes’ waist, and guide her gently backwards, as Barbara presses soft kisses across her lips, her cheek, down the line of her neck, until they bump into the banister at the bottom of the stairs, giggling.

 

~~

 

The summer week goes on much like their kitchen kiss. Warm and languid and relaxed. 

 

They cook together, and Mercedes spills flour all over Barbara’s favourite dress. They laugh, and let their voices fill the house, no need to be hushed and quiet. They debate the current social climate within Chile, discussed  Amanda Labarca, and women’s rights, and when Barbara becomes too heated in her frustration Mercedes calms her with soft kisses, pressing her lips to the underside of her wrist. 

 

-Tranquila- she whispers, teasingly, and Barbara laughs and softens.

 

Mercedes plays records on Tio Martin’s beat-up second hand record player, and they slow dance in the living room, bare feet scuffing across the worn rug as they sway with the rhythm of the music. 

 

-We fit together well- Barbara says, brushing back a lock of hair from Mercedes face, and letting her fingers rest there, cupping her cheek. The slow kiss that follows quickly deepens, into the kind of kiss that makes Barbara feel as though they can’t be close enough, hands fingers tangled in Mercedes hair and Mercedes’ tugging at the material of her dress, until Mercedes is leading her to the stairs, their fingers laced without a second thought this time as the head mistress wiggles her eyebrows and pulls her into the study on the first level. 

 

-This isn’t the bedroom- Barbara managers to whisper breathlessly, as she can feel Mercedes cool fingers trail beneath the hem of her dress in the warm room, heat still lingering long after the sun has set. Mercedes giggles, emboldened, and bumps a pile of books with her elbow as she steps back and undoes the zip of her own dress, letting it fall to the floor. The grey material pools at her feet, and suddenly Barbara doesn’t care where they are, her thoughts are consumed with every soft curve of Mercedes figure in the dim light from the stairwell that spills through the partially open door behind them. 

 

-Eres tan hermosa- she doesn’t realise she has said this out loud until Mercedes bites her bottom lip, and lets out a content sigh, her back leaning against the wall behind her as she pulls Barbara closer. 

 

-You make me feel beautiful- she replies with soft spoken confidence. 

 

They walk along the hilly cliff tops, along the sandy beaches. Barbara picks Mercedes flowers from the overgrowing gardenia plant. They spend hours in the water, swimming, and laughing, and letting the ocean waves wash over them. They sit in the garden, still in their damp swimsuits, in large brimmed hats and with their robes thrown loosely on. Mercedes traces the drops of salt water that have fallen from Barbara’s hair and left a trail along her collarbone.

 

-Can I tell you something?- she asks.

 

-Claro que si- Barbara leans forward where they sit on a lawn chair, legs tangled together under shade of a Jubaea tree. 

 

-I wish that we could stay like this, always- Mercedes confesses with resigned melancholy, hand still resting against Barbara’s chest. She feels it rise, and then fall heavily as Barbara sighs, reaching up and gently rubbing the back of Mercedes neck. 

 

-Mi amor- she whispers, pressing a kiss to Mercedes jaw line, and tasting the salt water on her skin, -I know. So do I- 

 

Mercedes turns, and reaches up to cup Barbara’s cheeks in her hands.

 

-I have never been as happy, as I have been here with you- she tells her, hoping with every desperate ache of her voice that Barbara knows how much she means it. 

 

It is Barbara’s idea to bring out the camera, she sets it on a wobbly stand, and jestingly makes Mercedes pose for her while she fiddles with the viewfinder. She takes a photo of Mercedes laughing, dressing gown falling off her shoulder delicately, and Mercedes pouts up at her. 

 

-You didn’t tell me you were taking a picture, Barbarita-

 

She puts the timer on, and sits beside Mercedes. It takes longer than expected, and Mercedes makes a joke, and Barbara’s mouth is open when it does go off, about to laugh. Later, when she has them printed, she will think that is the happiest photo she has ever seen of herself. She keeps a copy pressed into the pages of her dog eared copy of The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir, where she knows Nicanor would never look, and gives one to Mercedes. When she visits next she sees it framed on her nightstand.

 

-A little piece of Quintero, and of that summer, to remember always- Meredes says, as they lie on her bed, shoes on the hardwood floor and their bare feet playing footsies absentmindedly. 

 

-Maybe, in here, it can always be summer- Barbara tells her, turning and propping herself up with her elbow, so that she can lean over Mercedes and kiss her softly.

 

-Siempre verano- she whispers back. 


End file.
